


baz's first halloween

by pipsqueakparker (lafbaeyette)



Category: Carry On Series - Rainbow Rowell
Genre: And Mordelia, Baz Is Soft, Domestic Fluff, Family, Fluff, For Simon, Halloween, Halloween Costumes, M/M, Simon Bonds With Mordelia, Trick or Treating, soft
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-31
Updated: 2019-10-31
Packaged: 2021-01-15 05:02:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,312
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21247886
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lafbaeyette/pseuds/pipsqueakparker
Summary: "You never even went trick-or-treating?” Simon’s mouth drops open as I shake my head.“What, have you?”“Yes, as matter of fact. Even I’ve been trick-or-treating.”--AKA, The One Where Simon & Baz Take Mordelia Trick Or Treating





	baz's first halloween

**Author's Note:**

> uh...... i need more halloween content in this fandom so i'm putting it there
> 
> that's my only explanation
> 
> and i'm honestly too knackered myself to know if this is even worthy of your eyes but take it anyway i don't know what it turned into

****“What’re you gonna be for Halloween?”

Simon’s watching me over the top of my book. He’s turned off the telly, probably grown bored of whatever program he’d finally settled on. He gets bored easily. He still doesn’t know how to live life without a mission.

He twists on the sofa to face me, pulling his knees up onto the cushions between us. He stretches out a socked foot and nudges my thigh when I don’t respond immediately.

His new mission in life is bugging the bloody fuck out of me.

“_Baz_.” He nudges me again, scoots closer. “What’re you gonna be for Halloween?”

I glance up from the page when I reach the end of my paragraph. He’s got a little smile on his lips, like finally getting my attention’s his greatest triumph for the day.

My new mission is to make sure that look stays on his face. (Even if the way to that look is letting him pester me. He loves being a pest.)

“A productive member of society.”

Simon’s smile doesn’t falter, but he kicks me again. “That’s a lousy costume. D’ya wanna know what I wanna be?”

“A menace?”

“_No_.” He rolls his eyes and his smile twists to something more devious. I dread the next thing to come out of his mouth. “A vampire.”

It’s my turn to roll my eyes, because my boyfriend is a moron. And I’m still desperately in love with him.

“Brilliant, innit?” He’s grinning again, eyes bright. I lower my eyes back to my book. 

“Smashing, Snow.”

“Wait - That’s not, like… offensive, is it?” 

I lift a brow. “Offensive?”

Simon shrugs. I don’t even have to look at him, I can just feel the essence of his shrug. “I dunno, is it like… uhm, what’s the one Penny’s always on about? Like, when people wear a sombrero and call it a costume?”

“Cultural appropriation?”

He snaps his fingers and throws his arm out across the sofa, pointing directly into my face. “Yes, that one!” He drops his hand, sets it gently on my wrist instead. “Though, if you ask me, that’d be a lousy costume even if it wasn’t offensive. But, is dressing up as a vampire, like, cultural appropriation?”

I stare at him. I’m so bloody fond of him, if I hadn’t already fallen in love with him I think somehow this would be the moment. He’s concerned about offending me, a blood-sucking vampire, a _monster_, with a costume. I put my hand on top of his and give it a small squeeze, “No, Simon, I don’t believe dressing as a vampire for Halloween is the same as cultural appropriation.”

His smile is back full force, he turns his hand under mine and intertwines our fingers. “Wicked. I just - you never know, do you? I mean, you’ve heard Penny talk about Normals dressing as Magicians and all. Just. Never know, I guess. So, what do you wanna be?”

“I don’t dress up for Halloween.”

Simon scoffs. “What’d’ya mean? You dress up for _literally_ every other occasion. You practically dress up just to go to bed, in those posh pyjamas of yours.”

“Ex_cuse_ you, they’re comfortable. Just because you sleep completely starkers doesn’t mean we all have to,” I say, shaking my head. “I’ll never understand how you don’t freeze your bollocks off. It gets too cold in your room.”

“You’d be the first to complain if I started wearing pyjamas,” Simon says. And he’s right, but I don’t tell him that. He tugs at my hand. “C’mon, you really don’t wanna dress up as anything? Didn’t you used to? When y’were a kid?”

“No, I didn’t, really. We don’t much celebrate Halloween at Pitch manor.”

“What?” His brows shoot up his forehead, eyes wide, as he looks completely astonished at this. “Are you serious? Of all families to celebrate, I’d expect you all to go in the hardest. You already live in a gothic mansion, for magic’s sake.”

“It’s Victorian,” I correct. “Father wasn’t much a fan of the holiday. The most I ever did to celebrate was tell scary stories to the little ones. Until Mordelia ruined it by running and crying to Daphne.”

“So, all you ever did was traumatize your siblings? You never even went trick-or-treating?” Simon’s mouth drops open as I shake my head.

“What, have _you_?”

“Yes, as matter of fact. Even _I’ve _been trick-or-treating.” He tilts his head to the side, and continues. “Well, sort of. A couple of the homes I was in as a kid did, like, an indoor trick-or-treating thing? Like, we’d get dressed up, and then go to all the offices and different rooms and they’d give us candy. We did actually go once. There happened to be a small group of us. Guess they thought we’d be easy enough.”

“Crowley, your life is a tragedy, Simon Snow.” He shoves my shoulder as I laugh, then shifts and leans into my side, still holding my hand.

“Sounds like _you _lived the tragedy. Do the children? Do anything for the holiday, I mean?”

“I don’t imagine so, but I’ve usually been at school so I suppose I wouldn’t know.”

Simon suddenly shoots up from the sofa. He’s still holding my hand and nearly rips my arm from its socket on his way up. “We should take them!”

I rub my shoulder and Simon looks apologetic when he realizes what he’s done, but then he grabs my other hand as if that will drive the point home. “Let’s take them trick-or-treating! There’ve gotta be people ‘round here that’ll be giving out candy, it’s well residential, yeah?”

“You want me to drive out, round up my younger siblings, and drag them all back out _here_? To _trick-or-treat_? With _you_? The Chosen One?”

Simon huffs. “With me. Your _boyfriend_. And with _you_, their brother.” 

“I’m not sure we pass for the greatest babysitters, Snow.”

“Then just Mordelia, then. She’s the oldest one, yeah? And she’s, what, eight? Nine? We can’t fuck up with an eight year old, can we?”

And that’s how I end up standing on Snow and Bunce’s doorstep with my now nine-year-old sister, Mordelia, dressed as Marie Antoinette. (Mordelia, that is. I’ve been forced into a highly ironic couples costume. I’m Snow’s _victim_.) (This costume started off as a joke, but I couldn’t think of another idea and time was running out.)

Bunce answers the door. She’s not dressed up at all and I almost ask how she didn’t get roped into this idea as well, but then Simon’s stood behind her, grinning and bearing his two plastic fangs.

“Bunce.” I nod, then gesture to my sister. “This is my sister, Mordelia Grimm. Mordelia, Penelope Bunce.”

Mordelia doesn’t say a word. Just nods, then looks up to Simon. The other children weren’t interested. As I told Simon, Halloween wasn’t a very big deal at our house. Even Mordelia was disinterested, until I mentioned Simon, and then she was practically begging Father to let her go and me to take her. There must be something in that small portion of DNA we share that’s coded to be infatuated with Simon Snow.

“Hi, Mordelia. Happy Halloween!” Simon reaches around Bunce to grab Mordelia’s hand and pull her inside. Meanwhile, Bunce looks me over, studies the two red marks Simon had drawn on my neck earlier in the afternoon, and quirks a brow.

“Bit of role reversal tonight, Basil?” She smirks, I roll my eyes.

“No one is more mortified by the lengths I go to for Simon than I am.”

Bunce’s face softens and she touches my shoulder. “No one’s more grateful for it than I am.” She pulls her hand back, crossing her arms and taking a step back into the apartment, letting me follow her in. “But your love is disgusting, as is his excitement to go beg strangers for candy. Please give me the peace I deserve.”

I do. I round up Simon and Mordelia, each of them carrying a tacky orange pumpkin-shaped basket, and herd them back out of the flat. Once we hit the street, Simon takes the lead. There are groups of other children running down the pavement, cackling and yelling at each other, as an adult or two straggle behind. We basically follow their lead, as neither of us know the neighbourhood that well, but Simon approaches each doorstep confidently with Mordelia next to him. I hang back, for the most part, as they do their spiel at each house. I try not to think about how Simon Snow is spending Halloween with my sister, how he _wanted _to. I try not to look at them fondly, but by the seventh house I’m not sure I can help it.

Mordelia is obviously infatuated by my numpty of a boyfriend, she looks at him with shiny eyes as we walk, and I do, too. Simon, however, is looking around at the decorations along the windows and balconies and front doors. He’s pointing out costumes as groups pass us, praising the good ones, and whispering to me about the particularly bad ones. (Mine’s a particularly bad one that I’m sure another couple has already whispered about.) Mordelia walks between us for a while, grabbing onto my hand when we’re in a particularly large crowd. At some point she’s grabbed Simon’s as well. (And I don’t get strangely choked up when I notice the way she’s swinging our arms between us.)

We approach the next door like this, Mordelia holding onto each of our hands, and Simon knocks on the door. An older woman opens it with a grin on her face, taking in Mordelia’s costume, then Simon’s.

“Oh, goodness, look at you all!” She coos, which feels strange, as her gaze sweeps over the three of us again. She starts dumping candy into Mordelia’s basket, absolutely delighting both her and Simon. “Such a lovely little family, happy Halloween, dears.”

My heart jumps into my throat as we step back onto the pavement, as I look over to find Simon grinning like I haven’t seen him grin in so long, as I find a matching smile across Mordelia’s face and I’m not sure if I’ve _ever _seen that girl smile. As I remember the woman’s words, _such a lovely little family_. As I imagine it, Simon and I having a _family_. As I feel myself fall into a panic, as I think of everything that could possibly go wrong in that scenario. How unlikely it could be, how easily this could all fall away.

Then Simon’s next to me, bumping my shoulder with his. I didn’t notice him switch sides, but now he’s taking my other hand and directing that million-watt smile at _me. _

“Alright, Baz?” He squeezes my hand and just like that my heart drops back down, feels like it’s going to burst right out of my chest now. Because something in the way Simon’s looking at me, smiling at me, has drowned the anxiety that was beginning to build. Because Simon is next to me, and he’s happy and _here_. Because if I spend too much time thinking, considering, worrying, I’m going to miss what’s here.

“Tip top.” I try to fight my smile, but I can’t help it. Simon leans in and presses a kiss to my cheek. It’s wet and awkward because of the fangs, but it’s perfect nonetheless.

“Good. I think someone’s getting a bit knackered, though.” He gestures to Mordelia, who’s leaning into me now as she walks. “We should head back.”

“No, I’m fine,” Mordelia says, but she’s cut off by a yawn that completely invalidates her argument.

“Your inability to keep pace says otherwise.” I take a few longer steps, tugging at her arm playfully, and she huffs.

“You’ve got longer legs, Basil, that’s not fair!”

“He really does have the longest legs,” Simon agrees. “Here, Mordy, I’ll help you out.

_Mordy? _

Simon kneels in front of her, gesturing for her to climb onto his back, which she does eagerly and he stands. Simon Snow, giving my younger sister a piggy-back ride home after spending the night taking her around the neighbourhood for sweets. _Crowley_.

We head back to Simon’s flat, where Simon and Mordelia each pour out their gatherings and sift through it. They’re sat on the floor around the coffee table while I lean back into the sofa, Simon’s back leaning against my knees. He passes me back a sweet every now and then, as they continue rifling through and switching for favorites. (Neither of them like caramel, so that’s what keeps getting tossed back to me.) Eventually, Mordelia and I are both knackered and have to head to Fiona’s. I’m driving her back home tomorrow morning.

The problem is that at some point Simon curled up on the sofa next to me, leaning into my side with his head on my shoulder. It’s too comfortable, I don’t want to leave. And Mordelia’s nearly asleep on the floor.

“See, Halloween can be fun,” Simon murmurs. “I think she had fun. _I _had fun.”

“‘Course you did, you’ve just been eating chocolate for the past hour.”

Simon snorts and presses his face into my neck. “Did you have a good time, though?”

I shrug, and I can tell it frustrates Simon for the moment, which is what it’s meant to do. He huffs, nips at my ear, and asks again. “Baz, did you?”

“Of course I did, you numpty.” I press a kiss to his temple, he hums contentedly. “Every moment with you is the best.”

“That’s well gay, Baz.”

“Shut _up_.” Simon laughs and wraps his arms around my middle, nuzzling his face into my shoulder. And it’s true, no matter how tonight went, I would’ve had a good time just because I was with him. Even if he was in a ridiculous vampire costume the whole time.

**Author's Note:**

> if you have more halloween content find me on tumblr (@pipsqueakparker) and give it to me p l e a s e 
> 
> (honestly i'm sorry if this is garbage i have no concept i just want them to be happy and domestic and nOT SAD ok?)


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